


but keep the pathway open (your home is at the end)

by sasha_davidovna



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gardens & Gardening, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:50:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10763661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_davidovna/pseuds/sasha_davidovna
Summary: "So it's over?" Steve asked.





	but keep the pathway open (your home is at the end)

"So it's over?" Steve asked, trying hard to keep the hope from his voice. Next to him, Bucky's face was blank, but his body still radiated tension. He was waiting, even now, to hear the worst. Bracing himself.

"It is over," Anathi said. She was smiling. "The tests are complete and the treatment was successful. The trigger words no longer work. You can go home."

Bucky twitched at that. "Home?" he echoed, sounding confused. 

"Not Brooklyn," Steve broke in quickly. "We're still working on that. But T'Challa gave me a house here, with plenty of room for you. It's beautiful, Buck, you'll love it. Wait until you see the garden." He was talking too fast, trying too hard and he knew it. Bucky did, too - his brows were starting to climb a little incredulously towards his hairline. "If you want to stay with me, of course," Steve added, belatedly.

Bucky rolled his eyes, refusing to dignify that with a verbal response. "A garden?" he said instead. "What does a pair of Brooklyn micks like us know about keeping a garden alive?" 

"Not much," Steve admitted, "but T'Challa's gardener Meluzmi has been helping me learn. I like it, actually. It's very peaceful."

Now Bucky really looked shocked. "Since when do you like peaceful?"

"I've been fighting my whole life," Steve said. "Maybe it's finally time to take a break." 

Bucky snorted. 

"Or maybe I just haven't found anybody in Wakanda who needs punching," Steve amended.

Bucky laughed. "There he is. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentleman!"

Anathi was smiling, too. "I am glad you have found the people of Wakanda so congenial, Captain Rogers," she said.

"We can't thank you enough," Steve told her. "I don't know if we'll ever be able to repay your kindness and generosity."

Anathi inclined her head graciously in acknowledgement. "Go, Captain Rogers. Enjoy some well-earned rest."

*****

Despite Steve's gushing about the garden, it was several hours before they actually made it outside. Bucky had to change into street clothes, there were more technicians and assistants to thank, and then the ride from the medical facility to the quiet cottage on the palace grounds where T'Challa had set Steve up. Bucky's eyes lit up at the sight of the strange hovercraft sent to collect them. 

"Welcome to the future," he whistled, low, to Steve, as it pulled up.

"I'm still not used to it," Steve confessed.

The cottage was equally wondrous, and Steve spent several hours showing Bucky all the various gadgets and gizmos scattered around the place as casually as beds or tables. Bucky was delighted with it all, and the happier and more enthusiastic he got, the more Steve relaxed. Bucky had been so careful and closed off since Romania and everything that followed that Steve had feared he would always carry with him the shadow of what Hydra had done to him. But Bucky could still smile like the sun breaking through clouds, he could still throw back his head and laugh like the pealing bells at Mass. There was still joy in him.

The first awkward moment came when they reached the bedrooms. There were three - one for Steve and two guest bedrooms that had never been used. Sam had his own cottage, closer to the palace (Steve had his own private suspicions about why Sam had chosen to live closer to T'Challa and his retinue, but Sam hadn't mentioned anything yet and he didn't want to pry), and Clint, Laura, and Wanda had taken another, larger one together, with an extra room for Natasha when she was in the country, which wasn't often. Steve would have liked Natasha to stay with him sometimes, but though she would come over to eat with him or spar in Steve's small, but shockingly well-equipped gym, she would never stay later than 8 PM because the Barton children insisted on bedtime stories whenever their "Aunt Nat" was in town and Natasha kept their date religiously. Which was fine and natural, and Steve refused to deny any of them that pleasure, but it did make for a very empty house at night. He'd gotten used to lonely nights when he lived in DC, but had never truly adjusted to them, and he'd welcomed the closer quarters of the Avengers upstate facility. Now the camaraderie he'd felt there was gone, perhaps forever, and he had yet to fully adjust to being alone again. Back home, he'd always shared living quarters - with his mother, with Bucky, with the Howling Commandos - but people today were so accustomed to the privacy of their own spaces and seemed to assume he would want the same, even Sam, who seemed to understand better than most the demons that visited in the dark hours of the night.

But now, like a miracle of God, he had Bucky back. As young boys, they'd often shared not just a room, but a bed, and then again when they'd moved in together after his mother died and hadn't been able to afford a second mattress. They'd even slept side-by-side more often than not during the war. Steve missed the quiet sounds of someone breathing next to him at night, but he had no idea whether Bucky felt the same. Did he miss it, too? Did he even remember it? He had chosen to live alone in Romania. Anyway, sharing a room or a bed out of necessity was one thing. Sharing in a house with two bedrooms that stood unused was another thing entirely. Maybe Bucky, too, would wish for privacy, a space of his own. 

"This your room?" Bucky asked. He was looking at Steve a little funny, like maybe Steve had been standing there in the doorway of the first bedroom a little longer than he realized.

"I guess," Steve said. "It's where I've been sleeping, anyway." He didn't step inside.

Bucky was still watching him with an odd expression on his face. "Looks nice," he said after a minute. "Is that the famous garden?" He nodded at the clear wall on the opposite side of the room that looked straight out into an arbor draped with vines covered in exotic looking flowers. Beyond lay a lush green meadow, mostly wild, with a trail leading into the surrounding forest.

"That's part of it," Steve said, forcing himself to relax, sound normal. "Want to see?"

Bucky shrugged. "Sure." He'd already gotten so used to being surprised by the Wakandan tech that he didn't even flinch when what looked like a glass pane dissolved as Steve crossed the room, carefully avoiding any glance at the bed, and stepped through into the garden. "What is it?" he asked, holding up the new vibranium hand T'Challa had given him near the end of his treatment and watching the wall dissolve and reform around it.

"Some sort of force field, I think," Steve said. "I didn't understand half of what T'Challa was saying when he explained it. That was always more your kind of thing."

"Welcome to the future," Bucky muttered again, smiling a little this time. "Show me this garden of yours, pal."

Steve did. He was rather proud of it, in fact. Meluzmi had helped him select and plant most of the vines and he liked to sit out here and draw, enjoying the cool emerald shade and the songs of the birds. His favorite spot in the garden, however, lay at the end of a short hike into the forest. Bucky followed obediently as Steve set off down the trail, his footfalls silent on the plush layer of mulch that covered the path. Though he'd remarked appreciatively on the beauty of the arbor and closed his eyes as if to savor the sweet scent of the flowers, Bucky had been quieter, less easy with his smiles ever since Steve had stopped in the bedroom doorway, and Steve was kicking himself for ruining the easy mood of the tour. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd done, but something had upset Bucky, he could feel it, and he wanted desperately to make it right again. Hopefully, showing him this would do the trick.

Near the end, the trail narrowed, and Steve paused his long strides. "Is it okay if you close your eyes and let me lead you for the last little bit?" he asked hesitantly. "I want to see your face when you see it for the first time."

Bucky cocked his head curiously, but shrugged. "Sure, I guess." He held up his hands to let Steve take them, one warm and calloused, the other smooth and hard. With his eyes closed, he looked calm and serene, and Steve felt a lump rising in his throat at the casual trust Bucky still placed in him. After everything, all that had happened, they still had that. He swallowed, forcing the lump back down, and gave Bucky's flesh hand a gentle tug to let him know they were moving. 

As they rounded a bend in the trail, the noise of the waterfall came into range and Steve saw Bucky's lips twitch. Bucky had always loved the waterfalls in Central Park and Steve had chosen this cottage specifically for the waterfall on its grounds. Specifically for Bucky. 

Bucky's smile deepened as Steve led him closer and closer to the noise of the falls, straight to the center of the clearing, where the mist from the water caught the dappled sun and filled the air with miniature rainbows. For just a moment, Steve let Bucky wait in suspense with his eyes closed, enjoying the bright look of expectation that filled his face, and then he dropped his hands and stepped aside.

"You can look now," he said, and watched happily as Bucky's face filled with awe.

"Holy-" Bucky began, before clamping his mouth shut abruptly. "I can't even say the word," he said, turning to Steve with his eyes sparkling. "It feels like blasphemy in front of something so beautiful. This is really yours?"

"Well, it's T'Challa's," Steve said, "but he's lending it to us, yes."

"Can we swim?" Bucky asked, gesturing at the azure pool at the foot of the falls.

"As much as we want."

"In that case," Bucky said, reaching for his shirt, "last one in's a rotten egg!"

"Hey!" Steve protested, as Bucky got his shirt off and went for his shoes. "No fair!" He grabbed for his own shirt, but Bucky was already shucking off his jeans and underwear and sprinting for the pool. 

"Jerk," Steve grumbled when he joined Bucky in the water a moment later.

"Still a sore loser, I see," Bucky laughed, floating by.

"Still a cheat, I see," Steve shot back, but he was smiling.

They swam for a long time, exploring every foot of the pool and the falls, and when they finally pulled themselves out of the water, dripping and happy, Bucky threw himself down on the soft grass under a tree. "Naptime," he declared. 

"Sounds good," Steve said, lying down in the dappled shade next to Bucky and closing his eyes.

The next thing he knew was the feeling of something warm and solid next to him. Unconsciously, he burrowed closer against it, trying to fit his small body against the bigger, warmer one. Then he remembered that he wasn't small anymore and his eyes shot open as he sat up. He'd moved closer to Bucky in his sleep and Bucky was lying on his side, propped up on his metal arm and watching Steve.

"Sorry," he said, sounding a little sheepish. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Is everything okay? How long have I been asleep?" Steve asked.

"I don't know," Bucky said. "I haven't been awake very long either."

"Oh," Steve said. "Should we head back?" He was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that they were both naked, not having wanted to get their clothes wet when they got out of the water and not having brought any towels to dry off first. 

"Not yet," Bucky said. He didn't elaborate.

"Um, okay," Steve said. He scooted back to put more space between them and lay back down, bending one leg up to try and hide his nakedness. 

Bucky seemed to have no such compunctions and was still watching him, expression thoughtful.

"I'd forgotten you were such a cuddler when you were small," he said finally, just when Steve was starting to fidget under the intensity of his silent contemplation.

"I didn't cuddle," Steve protested half-heartedly.

"Yes, you did."

"Well, I was always cold back then and you were warm."

"I wasn't complaining," Bucky said mildly. "Just remembering." He paused, and his mouth twisted a little. "You're the warm one now." There was something suddenly wistful in his voice.

"If you're cold, I'll keep you warm," Steve said. _I'll do anything for you_ , he thought. _You know that, right?_

"I know," Bucky said, and Steve's heart jumped. Once upon a time, they'd known each other so well, it had been like they could read each other's minds. He'd felt it again in Siberia, they way they'd fought together, like two parts of one body. But Bucky's decision to go back in the ice had been a shock to Steve, had made him question how well he still knew his oldest and closest friend after everything he'd been through, and since Bucky had begun the therapy to remove the trigger words, their moments of instinctive mutual understanding had seemed few and far between. Steve had begun to fear that all that was left was their uncanny ability to fight together in sync, that their easy knowledge of each other's thoughts and moods had been lost, but this day, this afternoon was giving him hope that it could be reclaimed. Bucky did know, he must have felt the words that Steve couldn't say out loud.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky asked suddenly.

Steve gaped at him, revising whatever hopeful thoughts about their progress in understanding each other that he'd made. "What?" he said, stupidly.

"I've wanted to kiss you since about 1933, I think," Bucky said. "If Hydra-" he broke off, voice rough. "If something ever happens to separate us again, I just want you to know that. I hid it for a long time, but it seems stupid now. I've almost died so many times, and I still can't say what I want to say. That's stupid, right?"

"Hydra's never going to take you again," Steve said fiercely. "I won't let them."

Bucky smiled, wan. "Is that really all you took from what I just said?"

"No," Steve said. "I-" he started, and then realized he didn't know what he was going to say. "It's just… the rest of it needs more processing," he said finally, lamely. "Fighting is easy."

Bucky snorted. "You can't punch your way out of everything."

Steve laughed shortly. "You sound like Natasha."

"Natasha is a very smart woman. Although a terrible matchmaker."

"She told you about that?"

"She thought it would cheer me up."

"Did it?"

Bucky made a little humming noise, impossible to parse. "Steve, did you ever think that maybe it wasn't the girls who were the problem?"

"I loved Peggy."

"I know," Bucky said. 

Steve waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. Steve didn't know how Bucky could be so calm and matter-of-fact - his own mind was reeling, thoughts crowding together faster than he could sort them out. He couldn't meet Bucky's eyes. "They have," he began haltingly, "all kinds of _words_ now." He waved a hand. "Bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual... It's a little confusing, but… good." His throat felt tight. There'd been a class at SHIELD - "sensitivity training" or something. He'd gone, and learned the words, learned how much the world had changed, but it was one thing to think about it in the abstract and another to have somebody ask to kiss him. To have _Bucky_ ask to kiss him. It was almost too much - that Bucky was here and alive and healthy and loved him. Wanted him.

"A damn sight better than fairy, faggot, and pansy," Bucky said dryly, breaking into his thoughts.

"I would never-" Steve said, jerking his gaze up to meet Bucky's. Bucky had to understand, didn't he? He had to know that Steve wouldn't ever- "You didn't have to hide from me," he said.

"I know," Bucky said gently. He was being so careful, they were both being so careful, now. It felt wrong. Bucky had never been careful with him before. It was one of the things Steve had always loved about him - that Bucky had never tried to handle him with kid gloves.

"I wish I hadn't hidden it," Bucky was saying. "I wasted so much time, but I didn't appreciate it then." He was still lying there in the grass across from Steve, their bodies carefully separate. Waiting, even now. Bucky had always been the patient one.

"Then stop wasting time," Steve said, making his decision.

Bucky smiled, and leaned in.


End file.
